I am thankful for knock-out roses.
Sunday the wind picked up swirling the leaves in the air. I went out to the backyard to check on the pool and found that many fallen leaves were collecting on the surface of the water. Mixed in with the them were little bits of vivid pink, small flashes of color among the brown of fall. The wind had stirred up petals from the knock-out rose bush my mother bought me several years ago.
She came to see one random Saturday in May. Must have been in 2009 when the economy had begun the downward spiral and the car business had been greatly effected. In other words, we were broke most of the time. What little bit of money we had was used for necessities. I wanted to plant some things in the backyard for color around the pool, but I didn't have the luxury of splurging on those items.
She brought me a knock-out rose bush and a hydrangea bush. We planted them, and I nurtured them equally the same. The rose bush flourished while the hydrangea didn't make it.
Seeing those petals all over the concrete and yard and in the pool on Sunday made me smile. Each one felt like a piece of her. Each little fleck of color reminded me of all the little pieces of her that she has left me, whether in what she taught me or some of the things she bought me along the way. Some are tangible and some not. Some living and some inanimate. But all are precious in my heart. So many little flecks of color amidst the grey of grief. I welcome them all.
I am so thankful for that brightly colored knock-out rose bush we planted together in my backyard.